Exasperation
by hoarfrosted
Summary: Interactions. Ingus and Luneth have never agreed on anything, until it comes to methods of releasing pent up stress and aggression.


"You're _insufferable_, you know that?"

Luneth groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, turning away from his blond counterpart to alleviate the extreme urge to punch him in his smug nose. Ingus makes no effort to acknowledge his ire, focused heavily on the yellowed map in his hands. They were standing directly in front of a fork in the road in the dense forest, attempting to mark their path to Goldor's Manor. They left Refia and Arc behind to take care of camp while scouting the area ahead.

"The elder told us that the marked trail would lead us to the manor," Ingus murmurs to himself, craning his head to view as far down each trail as he could from his position.

"_No_," Luneth faces him with an exasperated look, his voice as if he were talking to a smile child, "he said the _arched_ trail would lead us to the manor. That one," he points a gloved finger to the leftmost path which indeed appeared to a large mound halfway through it.

Ingus rolls his turquoise eyes, planning to continue ignoring the silver-haired boy. He rolls up the map and puts it away, stalking purposely over to the rightmost trail. "Ah, here we are," he exclaims when he happened upon a wooden stake with a red marker tied to it. He taps the stake fondly, giving Luneth a self-satisfied smile. "This must be the correct path, as I surmised."

"Once again, he said arched, _arched_," the shorter boy repeats the word slowly, making an arc with his hand, succeeding in further annoying the taller boy.

Ingus cocks an eyebrow skeptically at the exaggerated motions. "I am to believe that you actually paid attention to that 'old codger', as you called him?" Luneth wasn't fond of listening to longwinded speeches from village elders, most likely attributed to being brought up by Topapa, who prided himself on his ability to speak for long, _long _periods of time.

"Yes, actually, I did," Luneth smiles proudly, a hand on his hip. "That's why I heard him say arched. Maybe _you_ were too busy trying to pull that sword out of your ass to pay attention," he nods to himself, as if everything made sense now. He knew there were two certain ways to anger Ingus, which were to tease him about his perpetually uptight disposition, and to speak ill of Princess Sara. Luckily for both of them, he liked Sara too much to ever use her as a verbal weapon.

He achieves the desired effect when Ingus scowls menacingly at him, stomping up to him purposefully. Luneth only smirks up at the approaching form. "That is a crass notion and I will not be insulted by a lowly street urchin. How you have been appointed our leader is beyond me," he shakes his head in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest. Luneth's smirk twists into a frown. It was only fair for Ingus to know ways to offend him as well, after all.

"What the hell do you mean, 'street urchin?" The blond boy opens his mouth to answer, most likely with a scathing reply, but Luneth continues on anyway. "We were _all_ orphans. You're no better than me!"

The knight scoffs, wrinkling his nose at the thought. "We may have the same origin, but it is clear that we were not raised the same. You behave as if you were brought up in the muck," he says snidely.

Luneth isn't exactly sure what drives him to his next action – though he's pretty sure it revolves around Ingus being a pompous ass –, but in the next second his fist impacts with Ingus's face, effectively halting any further comments from the knight. For a short, foolish moment, Luneth figures that it will be the only bit of physical contact between them; Ingus, shocked, gingerly touching his bruised cheek, Luneth lowering his hand, trying to control his breathing.

Then, Ingus is launching himself at the other boy, tackling him to the forest floor. His knee plants itself into Luneth's side while one hand holds him down by his shoulder, the other pounding into the side of Luneth's head. And then Luneth is grabbing the striking arm and flipping them both over so he's straddling Ingus's midsection, his forearm pushing down on Ingus's throat. He avoids putting too much pressure on his windpipe; he doesn't want to _kill_ him, after all.

He can't say the same for Ingus, whose fists are alternating between jabbing both of his sides. Luneth brings the knuckles of his free hand to jam them into Ingus's forehead, hearing the satisfying groan of pain before he punches the blond square in the nose repeatedly, feeling the sting in his own fist. And then Ingus brings his leg between their bodies, kicking Luneth in the gut and throwing him off. Luneth lands on his back next to Ingus; wincing from the _crack_ he hears when he hits the ground.

They both lie in their positions, slowing their rapid breathing and mulling over the thoughts in their heads silently. Their heads turn to regard each other for a moment, until Luneth snorts and they both lose themselves in a fit of raucous, pained guffaws. They both drag themselves to their feet ruggedly, all smiles and grimaces of pain.

"We were ambushed," Ingus starts off, his voice a hoarse from the trauma to his larynx, "by a group of fiends – _large _fiends."

Luneth nods, regretting the motion instantly as he grasps his head to clear the dizziness. "Right, and we barely made it out alive."

Ingus nods shortly and they both begin walking down the path to return to camp, Luneth cradling his side while he limps, Ingus rubbing his nose to assess the damage. Along the way, they continue to fabricate parts of their story, though both of them know Refia won't buy any of it when they go to her to heal their injuries, and they'll most certainly have to deal with a tongue lashing for their violent behavior. It doesn't stop them from laughing all the way.

Both boys completely forget about finding the correct path. They enjoy exploring anyway.


End file.
